1000 word drabbles
by SemiPrecious
Summary: Just a collection of Blood drabbles under 1000 words, each with a different theme. Some'll make you laugh, others'll make you cry, others will leave you dazed and staring at the screen, wondering 'what is she on, and where can I get some'...
1. Immortality

Rating: K

Genre: Drama

**T****heme: Immortality. **

She sat there, without fail, every evening.

When the last traces of crimson had bled into navy blue and little lights stared coldly down, _she _would come. She, the girl with heart break in her smile, a million years in her eyes, and an infinite well of memories. Every night like clockwork she would come to sit on the dew-damp grass beneath the trees and stare up at the moon… Even when it wasn't there she'd map the memories of its path with her eyes, and simply smile distantly as she was engulfed.

I often wondered who she was.

-

I watched her, without fail, every evening.

Sometimes I caught her eye, her glittering, hallowed eyes that had overflowed with visions of torment and rapture until, at last, there was no room for anything more. She would sometimes flash me a vague smile before she turned back to the stars, but mostly she would pass right over me and stare at some unknown point where another had stood so many years before, and remember. It seemed to be all she ever did.

'My demons… Aren't true demons,' her eyes told me. They glittered in the darkness, focused on a seemingly insignificant point some inches left of my gaze.

'They were people, which means that they're worse than demons. They're _real._'

She smiled sweetly, broken and lonely, and her eyes began to scream.

-

One evening, I wondered if she was truly alive. I wondered if perhaps I had invented her. The thought came to me so suddenly, I didn't know what to make of it, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder.

I fervently hoped that she was real.

If she wasn't…

Then there was the chance that I wasn't, either; there was a chance that _she _invented _me_.

There was the chance that I was someone else entirely different to who I had built myself up to be, and then there was the horrifying chance that neither me mattered at all. _My _greatest demon was that I didn't matter, was that I would fade away and no one would notice. What if I was nothing more than a dream? How could anyone live, knowing that nothing they do will ever change anything or any_one_? I had struggled all my life to write my story in a desperate attempt at immortality, because I knew the power of stories. With this knowledge also came the dreadful truth that for each story told, another billion are discarded or never told or, worst of all, _forgotten… _I shuddered, and I bowed low under the weight of my nightmare…

And she continued to drown behind her eyes, oblivious.

-

One evening I dared to approach her, two cups of coffee steaming in polystyrene cups.

I didn't really know what to say now that I was finally here. I awkwardly asked her if she was well, which was a stupid question, and one she rightly didn't dignify with an answer.

_Of course she's not 'well'. _

But, she drinks the coffee. She doesn't thank me, or even look at me.

I walked away that night triumphant.

-

The next night, I don't ask her whether she's 'well' or how she's been, or anything else that I would have asked had she been any other.

I ask her what she is.

For the first time she meets my gaze, and her eyes are fire and bloodied ice, glittering with long-dead stars. She tells me she's a memory…

_Her voice echoes across time, her words losing all meaning as they boom through the ages, until there's only sound and sensation. I see her and see _through_ her, see the world as she has, see through eyes as old as life. Together we see people and generations and millions and millions of years fade from between her fingers, scattering like the drifting snow upon the dark mark of the earth, and I have pause to catch my breath. _

… and then she smiles, recollections welling behind her eyes and spilling unnoticed down her cheeks.

-

I often sit with her now.

I learn that her name is Saya, but when I ask her how old she is, she just gives me a smile brimming with memories and tells me: _a lifetime. _

It makes a strange sort of sense.

She doesn't ask about me, but I tell her anyway, and she listens, which is enough.

_My name is Peter. I decided that because I couldn't write my own story, I would become a part of someone else's story, and would be content. My body is nineteen years old, but my mind is a thousand… _

And that was the first and last time I ever heard her laugh.

-

One evening, I dared to kiss her, because she was lonely and because though she had shown me the horrors of immortality I still wanted to be more than a dream to someone, and she was so imperfect that she was beautiful.

For decades we lived and breathed like any other ignorant human, watching the world march by as we wasted our time away into nothing. And it was _glorious_.

-

I died.

My body was seventy-three years old, but my mind was a thousand. Nowhere near the lifetime that Saya's was, I admit, but more than long enough to be lonely.

When my breath stilled, she breathed for me. She stole me away, bundled my corpse into her mind, melted me into fire and bloodied ice and long-dead stars.

She continued to walk the world, though she had died a million years before.

And every evening until the heart beat of the earth itself stilled, the memories in her eyes mapped the path of the moon…

And she smiled.

- - -

Word Count: 957


	2. Strength

Rating: K

**Theme: Strength.**

**-**

There were different types of strength.

-

Saya, for example, had strong blood. It pumped through her body like hot oil, smoothing the graceful motions of her limbs as she fought, allowing her to move as though she were dancing instead of battling for her life. Coating her sword it gleamed wetly in the twilight, and the physical monsters crumbled into nothing even as they savaged her from their new home behind her eyes.

-

That was the strength of blood.

-

David was very strong as well, but he had strength of body. Year after year of hardship and toil had hardened his muscles into steel, and he could battle almost as well as Saya despite being human, which was no small accomplishment. Both he and Lewis fought like the professionals they were, living by and for the explosions of blood, the dying screams of the enemy and the adrenaline that came with the glory of battle.

-

That was the strength of the body.

-

Riku had been strong, no matter what anyone might say in the contrary. Right up to the very end he had believed in the powers of everyone else, and had never truly believed that anyone they battled had been 'bad'. It was mused, but never spoken, that perhaps the innocent Riku had never hated the enemy, but pitied her and her cursed existence. Even in battle he had never been inclined to kill. He had been innocent right up to the very end, innocent even when Diva took his body and life.

-

And that was the strength of belief.

-

Lulu was perhaps the strongest of them all. Even when she found out that she was an experiment gone wrong, that she was nothing more than spare parts that didn't quite fit together properly, she managed to smile. Even when her friends and family were cut down before her, all to give her a chance at life, she lived on, she survived with the hope that she would one day find another purpose in her otherwise meaningless existence.

She didn't have to fear the worst that could happen because she had lived it, was living it now, and _it was almost over, Diva was almost gone, she was _so close _to _living _for the first time…_ She could almost _taste _the sunbeams, and prayed for the day that she could turn her face to the light and _live_… She happily sucked on one of the juice boxes filled with blood she had been given, delighting in the rush that flooded her body with sensation.

-

And that was the strength of her hope.

-

Kai sighed, lowering himself to the ground so that he could stare up at the stars, even as his mind travelled through memories and premonitions at lightning speed. He was waiting for Saya to come back from her latest fight, and his tumultuous thoughts were once again clouded with worry. What if she was very badly hurt? What if this time she didn't come back? Then he would really be alone… And those thoughts made him ashamed, because of _course _Saya'd come back, she had to. Kai growled deep in his throat, cradling his head in his hands and wondering idly when it had gotten so heavy. He wasn't strong like the others. All he could do was sit here restlessly until she came back, he couldn't protect her from the monsters that wanted to dash her to pieces, he really _was _useless…

And then she was there, tired and bruised, blood streaming from a gash above her eye.

And then _he _was there, cradling her close and telling her how worried he's been, and scolding her for being so far away for such a long time. And though he didn't notice it, Saya leant into his calming embrace, breathing in his scent and smiling as his solid hold quieted the demons in her mind, if only for a moment.

Kai was only human, he was weak and young and still a naïve child, and though he tried to believe in his friends he sometimes lost hope…

But that was okay.

Cradling Saya close now, watching her eyes clear and light and soften as she laughed at something he'd said, he realized that it really was okay…

-

… Because he had strength of heart to spare.

-

Word count: 731


	3. Chocolate

Rating: K

**Theme: Chocolate**

-

Life, someone once told her, was like a box of chocolates.

Mao had never understood what that meant. Thinking over it now, though, (yes, she was _that bored_) it did make a sort of bizarre sense on several levels.

For one, a little bit of chocolate was nice, but too much made you want to curl up and die. _That_ much was true in the real world, just look at Haji and Saya. Poor, miserable things that they were…

Oh, and then there was that other corny line: "You never knew when you were going to get the good stuff, just as you never knew when you were going to get the nuts." What that really meant was that all of the chocolates looked the same on the outside, but each had different flavours or, to fit the metaphor, experiences, crammed within. But, seriously, all everyone else had to worry about was _nuts_?

_Well._

That might have been true for 'everyone else', but she was sure that 'everyone else,' whoever the hell 'everyone else' was, hadn't led the sort of life she led, or met the sort of people she had. In her experience, the saying was more like: You never knew when you were going to get sweet, smooth, succulent, _perfect_ caramel, just as you never knew when you were going to get the one with the odd pink stuff filled with chewy flakes that were either coconut or psoriasis. Oh, or that imitation nougat with dried pineapple flakes laced through that no one likes. Not even Akihiro liked them, and he was known to like some pretty bizarre things. She wrinkled her nose as her memories flashed her an image of the man enjoying soggy crisps soaked in soy sauce. Ew.

Thinking about it, she couldn't decide whether or not Akihiro was icky like the pineapple-flake chocolate, or whether he was the sweet, smooth, succulent, _perfect_ caramel. Really, he was a little bit of both. She mentally ran through the check-list.

He was far from sweet. But, although he came on unbearably strong he left you with a rather queer after-taste that wasn't really pleasant, per say, but oddly left you longing for more. Like War Heads. They were _so_ good only because you hated them _so_ much.

He could be classified as smooth, depending on your definition of smooth. If you were to stick to the chocolate metaphor there was no way you could ever sigh and giggle to your girlfriends that he was 'smooth.' In _that_ sense, he was about as smooth as sandpaper. Though he was a good guy he was brusque and quick to temper – exactly the sort of loser she'd warned all her girlfriends against. Sigh. But, if you called him 'smooth' and meant that he could easily get out of a tight situation, or that he had a quick tongue with a ready scapegoat for any given scenario, then it could apply. Really, despite all appearances, he was rather intelligent.

Succulent… she blushed. Perhaps she wouldn't go there just now…

Perfect… far from it. The egotistical bastard was a Great-Wall-of-China-with-Armed-Sentries-Every-Ten-Feet away from being perfect.

Well then. That settled it. There was no way he could be her caramel in the chocolate box of life experience.

… But, at the same time, she wouldn't quite classify him as pineapple. Perhaps he was Turkish Delight? No, far too posh for someone like him… Oh, dear.

Decisions, decisions…

"Oi," the object of her thoughts called rudely. "Mao!"

"Waddya want?" she hollered back, slightly annoyed at the interruption of her musings. "I'm busy, so it'd better be important!"

There was a short pause that extended a couple of seconds longer than perhaps what was necessary, before his voice came again, low and sullen. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. Go back to whatever the hell you were doing."

Mao blinked, sitting up. What was that all about? "Hey," she called out. "Okay, I'm listening. Now, what do you want?"

"Ah, woman! Get off my back already! It's not important."

"What is it?" Mao insisted, stomping her foot angrily when no answer came. "Tell me, Akihiro, or I _swear _I'll…"

A bundle of velvety blue cloth was shoved into her arms. Blinking she turned to face Akihiro, who was scowling away while rubbing the back of his neck. "There, are ya happy?"

"What's this?" Mao gaped as she unfolded the cloth, which was actually a gorgeous dress. "Akihiro…"

"Saya picked it out, said you might like it," he lied easily, not missing the knowing flash that passed through Mao's eyes but choosing to ignore it. "I wouldn't have bought it myself, too bulky for my tastes." He tilted his head in that cocky manner that she so hated, one eye looking teasingly down at her as he grinned. "Hey, maybe it _is _the dress for you after all," he said drolly, smirking even as her palm connected sharply with his arm.

"I'm not fat, you arrogant pig," she huffed, but the smile that graced her pretty features took the sting from her words. Maybe she should rethink that 'sweet' point… Ah, what was the use? She would never get anywhere. Really, in her opinion, Akihiro was a box of chocolates in himself… She hugged the dress close with a small smile.

She just never knew what to expect.

-

Word Count: 888

A.N. Hey, I just thought I should mention, I've been getting these themes by closing my eyes and pointing at words in the dictionary and then writing whatever comes to mind - if anyone has any themes or characters, don't hesitate to tell me in a review!


	4. Home

Rating: K

**Theme: Home**

Lulu grinned, looking around curiously as she sucked on a bag of blood. Things were never boring here with Kai and Saya and the rest, that was for sure. Smiling dreamily, Lulu leant her head back against the wall and blissfully let the rush of noise flood through her like a wave of familial love and warmth.

She hadn't lived in many places. At first there had been the cell, the cramped, dirty cell where she had lived with the other Sifs. They'd been treated like animals. She'd hated it. She sighed, letting the memories of her old living area invade her; but, instead of feeling the usual pain that accompanied them she felt only content. It was all better now. Why drown in the past when the present was so beautiful?

"Ne, Lulu?" Saya called, grinning brightly at the young girl and waving her over. "Come on, Lulu! Help me beat up Kai for being a pig and eating all the pizza!"

"No fair!" Kai spluttered, the poor boy already a hopelessly tangled mess of limbs where he lay sprawled on the floor. He cringed away when Saya raised a pillow, the glint in her eyes making him scramble to his feet with a decidedly feminine scream before sprinting in circles around the room while Saya gave chase, swinging her pillow in wild abandon.

Lulu shrieked with laughter, taking up her own cushion and bolting after the gluttonous boy who yelled and cowered in mock terror. "Save me from the vengeful women!" he wailed, looking imploringly over at Haji and scowling when the Chevalier simply cocked a sculpted eyebrow. "I've been betrayed!" Kai lamented, throwing himself on to one of the cushions and raising his hand to rest against his forehead melodramatically. "Foresaken by my own gender!"

"Life sucks, learn to deal," teased Saya, winking at Haji before belting Kai with her pillow. "That's for eating all the pizza!"

Lulu laughed long and loud as Kai struggled to get out of Saya's range. The pretty Chiropteran woman had a deadly aim...

After living in a cell for all those years, she and the others had wandered. It had been nice, sometimes, but other times it had been hell. Everyone was so hateful and frightened, consumed by thoughts of the Thorn and plagued by nightmares even though they never slept. She'd had no place to call her own, but she'd always comforted herself by saying that it was okay, and as long as she had the others everything would work out...

"Alright! I admit I was a pig for eating all the pizza. Why are you still hitting me?! Do you want it _back_ or something?"

"Ew." Saya wrinkled her nose when she caught on to what her brother was suggesting. "No, thanks. You're just fun to hit. Nice and squishy."

Kai's jaw dropped. "Squishy?!" He sniffed. "Well, I can take a hint. I can see I'm not wanted here. C'mon Haji, let's leave the women here and go do something manly. Women, who needs 'em, right?"

Haji just gave Kai a _what are you on weirdo, get the hell away from me_ look, sidling away toward Saya. Saya wrapped her arms around Lulu's shoulders, sticking out her tongue at Kai and grinning madly when he sagged. "Woe is me," he moaned dramatically.

_... But of course, it hadn't worked out. The Thorn and other things had claimed them all, all but her_.

"Lulu?" Saya smiled down at the deceptively young-looking girl.

_It didn't hurt so much anymore, even though she missed them her memories of her old gang were more comforting than painful now._

"I think we should probably leave Kai alone now, what do you say?"

_That was because she had found happiness here, happiness in a woman who was tall and warm and strong, sometimes hugged her and gave her blood so she didn't have to kill humans anymore. She had also found happiness in a man, a man who was able to find something to laugh about even though he was suffering, was earnest, honest and a lot of fun, and had looked after the other Sifs when they were alive. She was_ happy_ here, here in her new home. Home was where Kai and Saya were._

"Kai's probably had enough... But, I do seem to recall Haji not helping to set the table..."

Saya, Lulu and Kai shared a wicked grin before yelling out their own war cries and racing after Haji, pounding him with their pillows.

Lulu grinned madly, panting with exertion and laughter and feeling slightly dizzy from running around in circles. She, Saya and Kai all flopped bonelessly to the ground, panting like crazy while Haji looked on with a small smile. Lulu grinned back, recognising the light in Haji's eyes as the same one that must be in her own at this very moment.

She was _home_.

Word Count: 815

A.N. BTW, I've been picking these themes by closing my eyes and opening the dictionary to a random page. If you want to give me a theme or character, don't hesitate to tell me in a review!


	5. Growing Up

**Rating: K+**

**Theme: Growing Up**

Aika sprinted madly through the garden, leaping expertly over the coiled hose and gripping onto the wall in order to swing her weight around the corner. "Aiko!" she hissed, stepping from foot to foot agitatedly. "Where are you?"

"Here," a voice whispered back from the foliage at the garden's perimeter, the volume loud enough that Aika could hear, but no other. Spotting Aiko at last Aika dashed over, almost tripping over the crouched girl when she skidded to an abrupt stop. "Careful!" Aiko warned, her maroon eyes soft with worry. "You could hurt yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," said Aika, her vibrant sapphire eyes flashing in the dim light. "How do I look?"

Aiko studied her sister critically, long black hair falling across her face as she judged the proud form of the more outgoing of Diva's twin daughters. "Not nearly earnest enough," Aiko declared at last.

"How's this?" Aika pulled her most puppy-eyed innocent face, which Aiko considered carefully.

"Better. Tilt your lips a little more… no, the other way… Perfect."

The two shared a wicked grin before Aika bounced away once again. Aiko watched on in amusement as Aika began calling out for their father, and shook her head. _Kai is going to REALLY regret not buying Aika the push bike she wanted…_

Aika stood in the middle of the garden, hollering for her father. "Kai!" she yelled. "Kai! KaiKaiKaiKaiKaiKaiKaiKaiK –"

"What?!" shouted the young man, and grinning madly Aika raced toward his voice.

"KA-ai!" she sing-songed happily, her hands clasped behind her back and her smile blinding in its sincerity. "You know I love you lots 'n lots, right?"

"Yes, and I love you too, kiddo," replied Kai slowly, watching his adopted daughter suspiciously through narrowed eyes. Nothing good had ever come of those dreaded nine words.

"And you know that you're like, my favouritest Daddy ever, right?" Aika said sweetly, her eyes just that little bit too innocent and her smile just that little bit too cute for comfort. And the girls only ever called him 'Daddy' when they really, really wanted something…

"I'm your only Daddy," Kai said calmly, a smile tilting his lips when he noticed that his daughter was bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet.

"Yeah, but if I had more, you'd still be the bestest of them all, hands down," said Aika loyally.

"Soooo…" prompted Kai.

"Soooo… Can you buy me and Aiko a motorcycle?"

Kai promptly began choking on air.

"Please?! It's my birthday soon!" Aika wheedled, her lips in a pout and her soft blue eyes brimming with disappointed tears. "Akihiro said you used to ride one…"

"And as soon as I see Akihiro, I'll kick his ass so hard he'll be pulling his pelvis from his ribcage," Kai muttered once he recovered from his brief coughing fit, before turning again to his hopeful daughter.

"Honey," he said, steeling himself as best he could against the oncoming storm of tears he could sense were coming, "as much as I love you and though I know you'll be turning…"

"Eleven," prompted Aika.

"Yes, thank you, eleven soon; you're far too young to be driving a motorcycle, and that's that." He nodded his head firmly, letting her know that he wouldn't be swayed and that the argument was over.

"But DAAAAddyyy…" Aika whined, her eyes spilling with tears. "I wanted one so, so, _badly_…"

… And then she began to wail.

"Don't cry, Aika," Kai implored, and to his horror he felt his resolve begin to falter. "You're too young to ride one!"

"No!" Aika sobbed, her face flushed, her blue eyes swimming with tears, and her pouty lips quivering like mad. "You're just saying that because you HATE ME!"

"No, I don't," said Kai desperately. "I love you lots 'n lots, remember?"

"LIES!!"

"No, not lies! Lots 'n lots 'n lots!"

"NOOOOO, no more LIES!! You LIAR!!"

"Aika…"

"NOOOOO!!"

"Okay, okay, okay, okay! How about we go to the store tomorrow, and I'll see about getting you a nice push bike, okay?"

Aika sniffed, pretending to consider. "Really?" she asked warily, the last of her tears sliding down her cheeks. "No lies?"

"No lies." Kai put a comforting arm around the young girl's shoulders. "I know you're disappointed about not getting a motor bike," he said consolingly, "but until you're older, a push-bike is going to have to do, okay, sweetie? I know it seems harsh now, but when you're a parent you'll understand that sometimes you just have to put your foot down."

"I understand, Daddy." _Sucker, _she thought evilly, shooting her quietly giggling sister a wicked grin over Kai's shoulder before turning bright and earnest eyes back to her father. "I'll ask again when I'm older, 'kay?" she said responsibly, the very epitome of submissive acceptance.

"'Kay," said Kai, sighing in relief. Taking his daughter by the hand he walked with her back into the house, shrugging off the odd feeling that though he'd won the battle, he'd lost a war he wasn't even aware he was fighting...

Word Count: 839


	6. Nightmare

**Rated: T (Gore)**

**SolomonsFiance's Theme: Nightmare**

Saya threw herself upright with a jerk, gasping for breath and sobbing uncontrollably. Tears left livid lines down her cheeks and temporarily blinded her, but the dampness of her crying made little difference to the sheets that were already saturated with her chilled sweat. Her throat hurt from the cries she had emitted in her sleep, and her stomach heaved painfully. Saya shuddered, curling in on herself as she fought to calm her thundering heart.

It had been a terrible dream. Already she was forgetting the specifics – there was only the hazy memory of her standing amongst a sea of twisted bodies, her useless blade snapped in half and her limbs far too tired and bloody to fight any more. Too numb with exhaustion to be sickened by the carnage that surrounded her she had simply stood there, her rattling breath the only sound in the otherwise choked silence that smothered the dead land. From then the details were a little blurry, but she clearly remembered the grotesquely misshapen corpses of her friends and family rising jerkily from the blood-soaked earth, their jaws twisted and their spilled guts slapping wetly against the ground as they shuffled forward in the slow walk of the dead.

Their mouths emitted no sound, but she knew what they were saying. _This is all your fault. How could you let this happen? You let your blade be broken. You let Diva take our lives. You let yourself grow weak. How could you do this to us? We loved you. We thought you loved us, too…_

She'd begun crying, screaming that she was sorry and that she did love them, more than anything she loved them, and she had tried so hard to protect them and she was _so sorry…_ She had then in her grief brought her shattered blade to her throat, but no matter how much her sliced and hacked her skin would not be broken. And all the while, as her hands numbed and the pads of her fingers tore from her efforts, the broken corpses surrounded her gurgled their accusations.

_It's all your fault…_

She shuddered, choking on her sobs as she pressed her face into her knees. Her eyes flew open in panic when she felt something cool rest on her sweaty shoulder, and giving a small scream she jumped back only to meet the concerned gaze of Haji.

"Saya?" he said softly, his eyes soft with worry. "Are you well?"

"Y-Yeah," she mumbled hoarsely, her heart still thundering. "Just a bad dream. I'm alright."

"Anything you wish to talk about?" The low timbre of his voice relaxed her, the gentleness of his tone dashing away her fright. But the raw horror still remained…

Her face crumpled and she pressed herself against his warmth. "I was so frightened!" she sobbed, and Haji curled himself protectively around her. "It was horrible!" She told him everything she could remember as he held her steady, her voice, though thick with tears and wavering something terrible, not sparing the Chevalier one gruesome detail. "And then I woke up," she finished at last. Shuddering at the memory, but feeling a lot better for having shared, Saya looked up at Haji through watery eyes.

For a long while Haji simply held her close like she was a child, her head tucked under his chin and her body draped across his lap. He stroked her boyishly short hair almost absently as he became lost in thought, and it wasn't long until the soft, steady rhythm of his heart sent her into a peaceful sleep.

Haji sat with her whole night, ignoring the fact that his left leg had fallen asleep and that his neck had a horrible crick since he was sitting half upright against the head-rest. He simply closed his eyes and basked in the innocence of her touch, her warmth soothing pains that went far deeper than the ones in his leg and neck. Feeling more peaceful now than he could ever remember being, he almost missed it when Saya raised her head off his chest to gaze deeply at him some hours later.

"Everyone had died, Haji," she whispered, and said Chevalier was startled from his thoughts. "Everyone gone. Diva had destroyed the entirety of humanity… and I was not allowed to follow because I do not belong with humanity… I'm a Chiropteran, though sometimes I forget and laugh with humans, and they laugh back as though I couldn't tear out their throats with a single movement…"

"Saya," Haji interrupted gently. As clever as she was, she could be such an idiot sometimes. Couldn't she see that if it weren't for her, none of _this_ would ever have happened? Bonds of love and friendship would never have been formed, all the terrible and wonderful things they had seen and learnt would never have taken place. United by a common cause humans learnt to fight not only in the name of humanity, but in the name of _Saya._

"You are looking at the situation in the wrong way," said Haji seriously. He thought for a minute, trying to find the words to explain how he felt. "It is not who we are born as that makes us who we are, it is the choices we make. You are not a monster as Diva is. Diva kills without cause, you kill to uphold yours. It is a noble cause that we share, and not one that you should be ashamed of.

"It is not a question of humanity and you… You are one with humanity, Saya; the same way that Kai and Riku are family even though you do not share blood."

Saya was silent for a while, then chanced a small smile. "I-I guess I never thought of it that way," she murmured, her smile becoming more heartfelt and tender. "Thank you, Haji." She smiled and kissed his cheek, before settling back into her beloved Chevalier. "You know," she added suddenly, "you didn't include yourself. You're family too, you know."

Touched, Haji tightened his arms slightly around her waist. "The sentiment is shared, Saya," he said softly. "You are my family."

"I'm glad." Giving Haji another quick smile, Saya settled back into his warmth to steal the last few hours of darkness for slumber, and this time it was Haji who graced her dreams and carried her over the moon and stars, and showed her how wonderful life could be.

Word Count: 1074


	7. Art

**Theme: Art**

Lulu narrowed her eyes in a show of intense concentration, her tongue sticking adorably out of the corner of her mouth. Carefully cradling her blue crayon between her fingers the youngest member of the Sifs drew a slow, careful circle, then sat back to admire her masterpiece.

Lulu was rather proud of the sketch book that Saya had given her for her 'birthday' (The rag-tag group of Red Shield warriors had been horrified to learn that she'd never had a birthday party and indeed didn't know when her birthday _was_, so had declared that her birthday might as well be today and had thrown an impromptu party. They'd gone and done some shopping, and the Sif child had gotten a striped jumper, a board game, a sketch pad and some coloured crayons). She'd almost filled all the pages with pictures of dogs and smiley-faced flowers, but her most recent picture was a little different to her usual works…

Lulu bit her lip, looking again at the smiling Moses and Saya who rested on her page. Both of them were holding hands while she herself was off to the side with a huge grin that actually extended past her cheeks. She'd drawn a little red love heart between the two adults, and even though her picture was far from professional it was obvious that the pair were looking at each other with love in their eyes… Lulu blushed madly and clutched her sketch pad to her chest. Oh, she'd _die_ of embarrassment if anyone saw this picture! But Saya and Moses had both fought so long and hard for the people that they loved, and they were both strong, compassionate people. They were lonely as well, and Lulu felt that maybe they wouldn't be sad anymore if they got together. They deserved each other.

The young girl sighed, looking sadly at the eastern horizon that was beginning to blush with the coming dawn. It probably would never happen… But she wanted it to really, really bad. Saya was already like a mother to her, and she'd always secretly thought of Moses as more of a father figure than a brother. They'd make a wonderful Mama and Papa… The Sif girl tucked her pad away into her clothing with a wistful sigh, vanishing in a streak of blue light as she hurried back to the others.

"There you are," said Moses as soon as she alighted through the warehouse window. He gave her a soft smile. "We were beginning to worry. Where were you?"

Lulu blushed, unconsciously pulling her sketch pad into a protective embrace. "Just drawing," she squeaked. She could feel her ears burning, and the raised eyebrows of the other Sifs only worsened the sensation. "Nothing else happened," she said defensively. "Stop looking at me!"

"We're not looking at you," Moses soothed. "Can we see your most recent masterpiece?"

Lulu gulped. She'd been so proud of her pieces that she'd been parading them relentlessly to anyone who happened to be near, her 'victims' humouring her happiness without (much) complaint… But no one could see this one! She was beginning to regret ever drawing it at all. It was a stupid wish, and a sign of weakness that someone as strong as she was longing for a Mama and Papa. "It's not finished yet," she lied. "I'll show you when it's done."

"Whatever," Karman shrugged, settling back into the shadows and shifting his robes about until he was comfortable.

Lulu shot him a grateful smile.

Moses watched the youngest of the Sifs carefully as she began to chatter about her day, obviously relieved that they'd dropped the subject. _What's with her_? he wondered. He watched her curiously, his eyes following the movement of the seemingly innocent sketch pad that she was waving about as she used her hands to emphasise some point she was making. The answer to her strange behaviour lay in that pad, he was sure of it; and though he didn't want to pry into her personal business Lulu'd been acting weird around both he and Saya for a while now, and both were beginning to worry. Surely it was alright to peek if it was in the interests of her health…

Decided, Moses settled down to wait for sunset, when Lulu would disappear to go and visit Kai and Saya. He would commence his investigations then.

- - -

The leader of the Sifs huffed a relieved sigh, plopping gracelessly onto the roots of a tree while Saya settled beside him. She, Moses and Kai had all ended up working together to wrest the child of her pad, all three of them worried about Lulu's odd behaviour and sure that the pad held answers. Kai had taken the girl out for a night on the town, getting her so excited that she never even noticed the absence of her drawings. Moses and Saya had then decided to go to the park so that they could talk without the danger of her coming home early.

"Let's have a look then, shall we?" said Saya, scooting closer to Moses so that she could see as he flipped slowly through the pictures. Though the years had hardened the Chiropteran woman, she held a soft spot for Lulu that bordered on maternal. She was worried about her surrogate daughter's behaviour, and though looking through her belongings without permission sent a pang of guilt through her she was determined to find out what was wrong.

Both Chiropteran and Sif gaped openly when Moses at last opened the pad to the final image, the childish but unmistakable renditions of the two of them jumping out of the page. They turned to each other, blushed, and looked away again. _How did she know_?! thought Saya frantically. She'd been harbouring a crush on her Sif friend for some time now, but thought she'd been discreet... Her blush intensified, embarrassment and horror making her eyes stretch wide. _Good God, how humiliating_…

"Well," said Moses awkwardly. "I… I guess we know what's wrong now, at least."

"Y-Yeah…"

They looked at each other again. "So," said Moses uncomfortably. "What do we do?"

"Huh?"

"Well, we know what's wrong now, and we can't let Lulu keep feeling down. We have to use what we know to help her somehow."

Saya swallowed, but wasn't about to let this opportunity pass her by. She hesitantly let her cool hand wrap around his own pale one, not daring meet his eyes but rather studying her feet, a light blush dusting her cheeks as her heart thundered in her ears. She almost jumped out of her skin when Moses gave a small chuckle and firmly entwined their fingers. "I suppose that could work," he said teasingly. Saya smiled in relief.

"It would be most effective," she agreed, and Moses laughed.

Word Count: 1,132

- - -

Feel free to suggest any pairings or themes in a review.

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	8. Song

Rated: K+ (Angst)

**Theme: Song**

She sat motionless in the darkness of the room's thick shadows, her back pressed against the chilled stone wall and her head bowed low. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks, dripping unchecked to the ground. The child – looking perhaps ten years old – sat deathly still, the many deep scars and thick lacerations that covered the expanse of her pale and sun-deprived skin slowly knitting closed as the hours crawled by. She blocked out the pain of her physical wounds with practised ease, but for the first time she had gotten an injury she couldn't ignore. The dull pulsing in her heart was so great that the crippling pain of her torn flesh was insignificant.

He didn't love her.

He had never loved her.

She was _nothing _to him…

She had loved him, though; loved him with all the desperate fervour of a lonely child. She'd worshipped him, reserved her rare smiles only for him, endured crippling amounts of pain and dangerous levels of blood loss, all to please him. After all, if she was properly subservient she'd earn herself a quiet 'good girl,' and if he was especially pleased he might even give her a pat on the head! These were the moments she lived for.

Him… Her father… _Joel_…

She had been desperate for affection, craving with unequalled passion the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand, even if it were to tell her how useless she was or to rip her skin open to study the rate that she healed. She convinced herself that he only hurt her to make her stronger, he only called her those nasty words because he cherished her as she cherished him.

_Lies._

_- - -_

She had been practising, day in and day out. She had fine-tuned her voice to sound as textured as an instrument, as natural and fluted as the birds that she sometimes heard through her small window, and as heartbreakingly poignant as the wind rippling through the skeletons of trees. It was perfection, and she was pleased.

She hadn't told anyone and had made sure that no one heard her practising; she wanted to sing only for Joel. But it had to be perfect. She had whispered conspiratorially the other night that she had something for him, even given him a rare and dazzling smile through the blood that stained her teeth. She had told him that she had something beautiful for him, that she would weave him a story that would move mountains and change the shape of the moon. Her Joel had been displeased with the ambiguity of her answer but she refused to elaborate even when he cruelly broke her bones and stole her blood. Joel deserved nothing less than perfection, and she wanted to see the pleasure on his face when she presented the loveliness that she'd been working on. She wouldn't ruin the surprise.

The young girl forcefully stifled her excitement when she heard the ringing of footsteps knocking echoes from the flagstones, the sounds bouncing from wall to wall like playful children. She knew Joel didn't like it when she moved about so she sat perfectly still as the echoes grew closer, an excited smile lighting her brilliant blue eyes.

"Joel," she breathed when her idol walked in the door, her eyes aglow with awe and blatant worship. "I've got your surprise ready!"

"Hm?" He was busy settling up some primitive medical tools along with a large vial to put her blood into. Her smile faltered slightly when she realised that she would be weak and half-dead from blood-loss again tonight, but it soon brightened again when she remembered her surprise.

"Uh huh. I'm going to sing for you!"

"Sing, are you?"

"Yes! I've been practising very hard!"

"No, you won't be singing anytime soon."

She was taken aback. "Why not?" she demanded. "I've been working really hard, all for you!"

"No. You see, I need to measure the healing rate of not just a surface wound, but an actual amputation. Does the whole limb grow back, or does the flesh just seal over like a human? It would be impractical for me to take your arms or legs, we still need those just in case they don't grow back, so I'll be taking a part of you that I don't think any of us will miss."

Some men appeared behind Joel when he gestured lazily for them to come forward. He looked on impassively as they grabbed the girl's arms and legs and pulled her head back painfully by the roots of her hair, some strands breaking off due to the rough treatment. She shrieked… There was a glint of cold metal… biting pain… the bitterness of blood… And her scream disappeared beneath her choked gurgles.

And in that moment, when the bloody lump of shredded muscle that was once her tongue fell wetly to the ground, when her gift was so cruelly soiled – everything changed. She hated him. She wanted to slaughter him. She wanted to him to _bleed_…

Overwhelmed by the sting of betrayal and still choking up blood, the nameless girl could only watch numbly as Joel left the room, not a flicker of remorse in his eyes. She hated him. She _hated _him. Tears streamed from her shattered blue eyes. She would kill him. One day she would be strong enough to break free, and when her tongue grew back she'd sing and sing her tragic little songs to the world until it sunk down beneath her, became her toy, her pleasure, her new obsession. She'd kill and kill until her songs were branded onto everyone's brain, written in the most base language there was deep in their marrow, translated into sorrow and anger as the notes scratched their impressions into the soul.

And the girl who would be Diva leant back against the wall, the stump of her tongue already ceasing to gush blood as the flesh knitted closed, the muscle slowly but surely beginning to repair itself. And while she waited she wrote her songs and drew the melodies from the depths of her tortured heart, awaiting the day she could unleash them and conquer the world that had forsaken her.

Word Count: 1039

- - -

A.N. Phew, so, there's my sad little Diva-centric. Poor darling that she is... remember to keep your themes and pairings coming!

- - -


	9. Mask

Rated: K

**Theme: Mask**

He had always been a good-looking boy. Not particularly handsome, per say, and still too child-like to be called attractive, he'd none-the-less possessed an abundance of innocence and good-will that gave him an inner glow. His eyes were always rich with life and love, his slender lips always spilling laughter and sunshine. In his own unique way, Riku'd been… beautiful, almost.

It hurt Kai more than he liked to admit, watching that Diva woman slip into his brother's skin, turning what should be a beautiful memory into something else, something tainted, something perverse. Though his skin and cheeks and hair and hands were all the same, his eyes and smile were… splintered. Meeting his gaze now was like looking into a broken camera, a Halloween mask of a precious young boy with a maniac's eyes piercing through the eye-holes. The twin orbs shone from their sockets, burning blue ice, and when Kai started to tremble not even he was sure it was entirely from anger.

"You monster," he hissed. His hands almost unconsciously curled into fists, his own dark eyes smouldering. "Where do you get off, pretending to be my brother?"

"Your brother?" It may have been Riku's voice, but the tinkling laugh that followed was entirely Diva. "Sorry, but he's not yours. He did belong to Saya, but now he belongs to me. He was never _yours_, silly." Diva's eyes gleamed, her smile twisting Riku's cheeks as she folded Riku's hands and rocked from side to side in a mockery of childish innocence. "And if he's mine," she added slyly, "I can do with him whatever I please."

It took all of Kai's will-power not to punch the insanity in those hauntingly familiar eyes away. "What do you want from us?" he growled instead.

"Nothing, really." Riku's shoulders shrugged, Diva's voice flowing so naturally from his dead lips that it makes Kai's heart ache. "I'm just going along with what sister wants. If she wants to fight me I won't stop her. You'll be a dear and tell her that for me, won't you?"

"I'll tell her," said Kai quietly. "Is that all you wanted?"

Diva considered carefully, Riku's index finger tapping against his chin as blue eyes stared pensively at the ceiling. "No," she said at last. "I want you."

Kai was taken aback. "No," he said abruptly, almost defensively. Diva only laughed at his aggressive tone.

"I want you," Diva reiterated, her eyes boring into his, her voice a soft coo. Kai gazed into her eyes, entranced, as her face seemed to melt and her eyes seemed to change, features becoming hazy and indistinct before softening and smoothing until he was looking into Riku's shy smile. "I want you, Kai," said Riku softly, his eyes dark and rich. "I want you to come with me, so that we can be a family again. Just like how it used to be."

Kai couldn't speak, couldn't move. He could only watch, his heart trembling, his hand almost unconsciously reaching for his brother before he drew the traitorous appendage back to his side with a snap.

"We could be happy again," the young boy persisted, his eyes glowing, "if only you agree to join me. To live forever as mine and mine alone."

"Riku, I..." Kai's voice trembled, and the words stuck in his throat. His fingers twitched and he licked his lips, his eyes wide and uncertain. "I… I… _I won't, Diva_!"

With those words Riku's lovely mouth twisted, mocking laughter ringing out from his pale lips as blue fire replaced Riku's tranquil brown. "You're not very nice, are you now?" said Diva gaily. She wagged a finger with mock severity. "Saying such things to your own brother, how unkind."

"No!" Kai roared, his dark eyes brimming with anger and shining with tears that he forcefully knuckled away. "I won't listen to you, you monster! You're not my brother!"

But Diva only laughed some more, dismissing the human boy entirely as she lost herself in her merriment.

Giving a last hoarse yell Kai leapt away, racing back to his friends as fast as his feet would carry him. His heart burning and his throat choked, he tried in vain to forget the sight of his brother – all soft lines and baby fat and small hands – laughing with the twisted delight of a maniac as the last shreds of Kai's optimism lay in soiled tatters at his feet, leaving only the bitter burn for revenge.

Diva'd suffer for this, Kai swore, angrily swiping at a few traitorous tears.

He'd see her and her mask shatter yet.

Word Count: 767

- - -

A.N. _Well_... To the person who requested a Riku-centric, this did actually start out a nice, friendly fluff ficlet all about Riku... but then -gestures helpessly- _this _happened. I still like how it turned out so I decided to post it, but I will make sure I do a nice fluff piece for you sometime in the future. And thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or gave me suggestions... I'll post them as soon as I can!

- - -


	10. Valentine

**Rated: K **

**Theme: Valentine**

If there was one day of the year that Akihiro could say that he honestly did not and doubted he would ever understand, it would have to be February the fourteenth. He just did not get what was so romantic about one day every year where you wrote silly, wishy-washy poetic sappy-pap for a loved one, gifting them with flowers and little heat shaped cards…

… Hearts…

… It was all rather morbid if you thought about it. How on earth did hearts ever get to be 'it'? Really, all the heart was, was a quivering lump of bloodied muscle with long lines of purple veins shot through and slimy artery tubes dangling out… Not the most arousing of sights. But, everyone loves the heart. People might write that they 'heart you' and draw little cartoon hearts with arrows through them (again, rather disturbing), and there are heart-shaped chocolates that are rather popular nowadays. The more poetic soul might even write about 'elevated hearts' which was, if possible, even more unsettling… Who the hell writes about the heart scrambling up your throat? And what about 'starving hearts' or 'wounded hearts' or even 'a total eclipse of the heart'? Akihiro shuddered. If his heart were hungry, injured or blocking out the sun, he'd be on the first bus to the hospital.

But, to be fair, it wasn't only the heart thing that bothered him about Valentines Day. There was also the whole deal with the flowers. That was all rather unsettling as well, in his view. Oh, they were pretty, colourful things, to be sure; but if they had voices they'd be wheezing and choking because their _pretty_ little stems have been snapped and now they're slowly starving and suffocating and dying a slow death in a crystal vase. How romantic. Really sets the mood.

So…

Hearts? Morbid.

Flowers? Murder.

Stuffed animals? Childish.

Jewellery? On his salary?

Poems? The sap he would have to write would probably kill his faith in his wonderful, beautiful words.

… So what the hell could he get Mao?

He couldn't afford anything nice, and the typical things were all –he shuddered– down right _sinister_. What could he give to a girl without making an idiot of himself? Never mind the fact that she wasn't just 'a girl'; her darling filthy-rich daddy-dearest was a single phone call away, so really she could have anything in the world if the fancy took her...

… Jeez, he sure knew how to pick 'em didn't he?

Okay… Thinking…

Aw hell, he didn't do mushy… And they weren't dating. Crap, he couldn't give her a Valentine's when they weren't even dating! He sighed and ran an agitated hand through his cropped brown hair, his eyes hard with determination as his mind whirred. So, that settled it. Her Valentine's gift… all he could give in good conscience… would be himself.

- - -

"MAO!" he bellowed, walking through the house and calling for his companion at the top of his lungs. "MAO! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!"

"Waddya want, Akihiro?" Mao called back, her voice laced heavily with annoyance. "I'm busy with dinner, so it'd better be important!"

Akihiro winced upon catching the odour that could only be Mao's cooking on the air. Breathing through his mouth Akihiro ventured into the kitchen where Mao was bent over the stove, stirring a pot of what may have once been cheese. "I wanted to give you something."

"Oh?" hummed Mao, intrigued despite herself. She turned to face him fully. "_You_ got _me_ something for Valentine's?"

"Yup!" Mao didn't know whether or not to be wary of the glowing triumph that spread across his face at his words. "Happy Valentines!" And, that said, he kissed her.

Flying purple pigs began selling tickets for sleigh-rides in hell.

There passed a month of Sundays.

The sun rose in the west.

Haji started a career as Chuckles the Happy Birthday Clown.

A whole lot of other idioms that are used to indicate that something will never happen came to pass.

"Gh… Gmhghhy… Gnahkkilkh… Gh…" Mao could only open and close her mouth while gurgling unintelligibly. "What… the… HELL?!" she eventually spluttered. "You kissed me!"

"Yup." Akihiro looked ridiculously proud of himself.

"Why?!"

"Be my girlfriend." It wasn't a question, and his sincerity took her by surprise.

"Wait… What? What are you talking about?"

Akihiro smirked and leant forward until his stubbly cheek brushed up against her own moisturised, exfoliated, toned and powered one. At this proximity she was flooded with his scent of stale coffee and cigarettes, and also something unnamed but exhilarating that was undeniably _him. _

His breath was warm in her ear, and despite herself she trembled. "Be my girlfriend," he reiterated, and she could _feel _his smirk. God, she both loved and hated that damned smirk…

She considered his proposition carefully. She knew she was attracted to him, despite her constant blustering and heated denials when the others sent her those knowing looks. But could she be his girlfriend?

"… Alright," she agreed casually, as though she were doing nothing more than commenting on something as inane as the weather. "I'll do it."

The smirk that curved against her shoulder broadened. "Good," Akihiro said simply, and kissed her again. After a few moments he pulled away, a flash of triumph passing across his gaze when Mao frowned and attempted to pull him back to her mouth. "Oh, and Mao?"

"Hm?" She fisted her hands into his jacket and tried to pull him in for another kiss.

"… The cheese thingo is burning."

Word Count: 935

BTW, I should probably mention that the problem with hearts was an observation made by the comedic author Danny Katz, which I thought was too funny not to share. Hope you all had a happy Valentine's Day, and I'll get cracking on all your suggestions soon! Ciao!


	11. Morning

**Theme: Morning**

It had been getting steadily worse.

Her hands were glowing with cracks, and her delicate face was riddled with black lines. Agony pulsed through her weakened limbs in time with her heartbeat, the gentle throbbing of the organ sending wave upon wave of poison through her being with each trembling beat. Her fair hair was damp with perspiration and lay in rattails about her face, the strands framing her tortured green eyes.

Everyone tried to tell her that it was all right, that help would be coming soon, but the agonised helplessness in their eyes said something very different. Everyone knew it, she herself better than anyone.

Irene was dying of Thorn, and nothing could save her now.

"Don't worry Irene," said Kai thickly, and even through her pain the dying Sif had to smile at her friend's concern. "Saya will give you her blood, and then it will be alright." He gently stroked beads of moisture from her cheeks, smoothing her hair from where it clung wetly to her splintered features. Already bleached from a lack of sunlight, the effects of the Thorn had left Irene's skin so pale it was nearly transparent. It hurt Kai to know that she would never be able to walk the streets again, would never know the taste of sunlight… He struggled to swallow passed the lump in his throat.

Irene gave a ragged sigh, the same thoughts going through her own mind. She didn't want to die, not now, she thought dimly. She wanted to walk the streets Paris! She wanted to… to climb tall towers, and maybe learn to play the piano, spend some time with Kai and get to know his friends as well, and maybe become their friends, too… Maybe, if she waited long enough, science would advance to the point that she could even walk into the sunlight.

There were so many things to do that she had never realised needed to be done.

And now she was dying.

Irene froze, the weight of her realisation painting her face stark. With sudden and aggressive desperation she looked from one face to the next, drinking in their expressions and greedily absorbing their features, as if realising for the first time that it may be her only chance to. Her eyes painstakingly traced the slope of cheekbone and the curve of lips, and a desperate tear rolled down her cheek when she realised that she couldn't place the exact shade of Moses' eyes. Was that blue in there, amongst the green? How come she'd never noticed before? And now she'd never… She bit back the hysterical sobs that pressed on the walls her throat.

"It'll be alright, Irene," said Kai, clumsily smoothing her hair and stumbling on his words in his rush to calm the frantic woman. "It'll all turn out fine! You have to promise me… when this is all over and you get better, you have to promise that you'll walk the streets of Paris with me. Promise!"

Irene listened, her heart thundering in her ears and her breathing borderline hyperventilating. She struggled to calm herself. She trembled pitifully when she felt the lines on her face extend, ripping into her cheeks and shattering the delicate point of her nose. When Kai slipped his hand into hers she gripped it with bruising ferocity, focusing on the warmth of the appendage in an attempt at slowing her breaths. Tears stung her eyes. His hands were so warm… As she watched and waited and steadily breathed – and she had to be hallucinating because wasn't it midnight not a second ago? – the first light of dawn shafted through the window.

The illusion – it could only ever be an illusion – was gone as quickly as it had come, but if she concentrated and unfocused her eyes she could swear that Kai was immersed in a halo of light. The tears that swam in his dark eyes glittered with gold and his hair was feathered with red, and, mesmerised, Irene couldn't help but to raise an unsteady hand to cup the mourning boy's cheek. Both of them shaking and terrified of the inevitable, Kai didn't object as he might have in any other circumstance when Irene drew him down into her weak and trembling embrace.

It was the oddest thing, she thought hazily, her skin crackling with her movements and her limbs slowly losing their feeling. She was deaf to the mournful wails of her friends as she stiffened, and never tasted the tears that dripped onto her face… she only felt warmth. She'd never felt so warm, it was as though she were embracing a star. Sunlight wavered off his skin, his clothes smelt like sunbeams and summer air. He was so warm it sent goosebumps up and down her arms, and she shivered deliciously. Enfolding herself deeper within him she felt a peace steal over her then that she'd never felt before, and muzzily wondered if this was what morning felt like for humans.

But Kai drew away then (despite her wordless protests and grasping fingers and the fear of the pain of encroaching darkness but how could it be encroaching when it had always been there?), making way for Saya, who cut open her palm, dribbling what flowed forth between the Sif girl's lips.

The yellow of sunlight shattered into ruby crystals before her eyes, and a blinding, white hot pain shot across and all over her crumbling form. Her vision blurred and lost focus, everything was dissolving into crimson shards and condensing into darkness, and terror broke her.

Throwing her head back Irene screamed with the last of her breath, pain and sorrow and regret overflowing into a last cry. It was pure and raw, a haunting agony that rang from the walls and trembled in the air. The lingering despair in the cry echoed in hearts and minds long after the morning's rays had faded into night, and the last of the ruby dust had been swept clean.

Word Count: 1000 (exactly!!)

Dedicated to **Neko**, who requested the morning theme. No, I didn't die. Just went into hibernation for a while -_-;; -gets busy typing everyone elses requests-


	12. Kiss

**Theme: Kiss**

'Silent as the grave' wasn't an expression that could be applied to Saya, Kai thought wryly. The entrance to her crypt didn't even release its customary shower of dust any more, the tomb had been opened so often – Lewis had often joked that they should just install a revolving door in there.

"You sure have a lot of friends, Saya," he told the cocoon, not feeling nearly as exasperated as he probably ought. The first few months had been angst and drama and bitterness over the fact that he was never left in peace to mourn his sister… But his friends hadn't let him stay sad, and now her grave always rung with laughter as everyone shared the happenings of the day with the comatose Chiropteran.

"I was worried I wouldn't get to visit you today," Kai confided, properly entering the tomb. He gave Saya his customary greeting, kissing the tips of his fingers then resting them on the strands of the cocoon. "Aika's come down with a cold, I've been on my feet all day. All I can say is thank god for babysitters." He spared a most-likely suffering Akihiro a fleeting, pitying thought. "So I can't stay long. Aiko was going to come say hello too, but she fell asleep in the car, and I didn't have the heart to wake her up…"

Kai paused in his narrative, only to realise that the whole time he'd been speaking, unconsciously he'd been stroking the threads of his sister's cocoon. "You know," he said pensively, "I keep meaning to ask, but… What exactly is the deal with the cocoon? What the hell's it even _made_ of?"

Fingering the threads, Kai found that the strands were tough and slightly sticky. "Like spider web," he mused aloud. Only to snicker at the thought of a multi-limbed Saya scuttling up the wall, silver thread hanging from a hole in the seat of her pants.

"Or bird's nest soup," supplied a helpful voice.

Kai didn't jump. With the number of people Saya knew it wasn't unusual for visitors to bump into one another at the gravesite, and both Haji and Kai were Saya's most frequent guests.

"What do you mean?" he asked instead, turning to face the Chevalier. "Mao's talked about it before – isn't it where a bird makes its nest out of spit and then people put it in soup and – oh. _Oh_."

Haji's meaningful glance took on a glint of laughter as Kai's face slackened with horror.

"But that means she… with spit… with her _mouth_…" Kai's face exploded into crimson as he realised that he'd always _kissed _the strands, touched them and sometimes not bothered to wash his hands afterward before eating

_Indirect kiss_!!

and somehow this was worse than sharing a toothbrush (which he'd always been too squeamish to do anyway)

_An indirect kiss with Saya_!!

and the realisation had so much blood rushing too his head that he felt faint.

To Kai's horror Haji then proceeded to smooch his own fingers and press them frighteningly close to where the Kai's had rested not a minute before. "It makes her an interesting kisser," the Chevalier confided seriously.

The thought of indirectly kissing _Haji _proved too much for the boy, and he dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

Chuckling to himself Haji made to leave, pausing only to shift the human so that he didn't awaken with a frightful crick in his arm. "Never change, for Saya's sake," he ordered the unconscious boy gravely, before giving a final smirk and disappearing into the afternoon haze.

Word Count: 596

Crack XD Does anyone else find it weird that Kai's more affected by the thought of Saya's spit than the thought of threads coming out her arse? -.-;;


	13. Word

**Theme: Word**

Solomon was a beautiful creature, Nathan decided. From a purely objective point of view, of course. His attractive European features made him a desirable character in most social circles, what with his blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, and the delicate slope that heredity lent the line of his jaw.

But lately… Nathan watched pensively as Solomon slipped on some clothes, the bloodied wounds on his back that had already sealed making his muscles spasm with the pain of movement. There was a flash of blue from between strands of blonde hair.

But lately, there was something more to his allure. Solomon carried himself differently now, and there was a resolution in his eyes that seemed to harden and flatten them. Even his characteristic suave smile had somehow become older, wiser, beautiful beyond words.

In Russian, there is no word that means simply 'to go'. Going has to be specified as walking or riding, then as habitual or non habitual walking or riding, then as perfect or imperfect habitual or non habitual walking or riding, all involving different verbs. The sort of walking Solomon was doing now – away, his broad back set still, doom knocking from the flagstones, not looking back –

Nathan idly thought it deserved a special word, celebrating its loveliness.

Word Count: 212

This one's mine. I'll get back to requests next time XD The observation regarding the nature of Russian verbs, the passage that inspired this shot, can be found in Iris Murdoch's 'A Word Child'.


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